


they don't speak your name in distant lands

by callmearcturus



Series: Sex Magic Island AU [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Creature Jake, Jam Fic, M/M, POV Flip, Sex Magic Island AU, self-actualization, the power of language over one's identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 05:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12675645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearcturus/pseuds/callmearcturus
Summary: There once was a lorelay in a lake. An island was their entire world, the island and warm waters and loneliness all their absolute domain.Then, people came.Learning new things is hard, but worthwhile.Jake's POV of the events ofyou can only take what you can carry to the edge of the sea.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly recommend reading the parent fic before this one. Spoilers abound and a lot of details won't make sense without the larger picture.

What would really be nice today is a fish.

You had a fish earlier, but it wasn’t very nice. One of the brown ones near the bed. The tangy blue ones have been hiding. Which would be annoying but you always enjoy having something to do. It makes the sun pass through the sky faster.

The darkness will make it easier to find the little blue swishers, but it’d be nice to find one before that. Impressive clever work.

With a slow stroke to avoid calling too hard through the water, you search with your hands open, outstretched, still, ready to snap closed like a clam jaw around anything that strays into your reach.

Against your fingertips and fans, you can feel movement. The urge to turn your head to see is strong, but doing that would spook the little yummers.

But as you drift gradually, patiently forward, the movement not only grows closer, but stronger. It’s quite a lot of pressure, maybe a whole school coming your way. If not, something falling in the lake. Every once in a while, one of the older trees bows and breaks into the water, and you can feel it everywhere. Usually that comes after a storm, though. It's been clear blue happy days for quite a while.

As much as you would like to keep still and vigilant, the need to look bubbles in you until it pops into a gasp of curiosity.

You turn your head and look.

It’s not a school of fish and it’s not a falling branch, nor distant disturbance.

You don’t know what it is.

It’s something you’ve never seen before, something  _new_.

The thing is larger than any fish you’ve ever seen, but smaller than you. It looks… like not an it, not a something, but someone.

The thought rushes like a wave, white foam filling your chest and spreading outward. There is _someone_ in your lake. There is someone here!

You stare at them, wondering if this is another apparition built of the tangled shape of kelp and long shadows. But no! No, you’ve never imagined this before! This someone is not just here and new, but are quite unlike anything you’ve ever amused yourself with the daydream of!

They have no tail, which is weird since they are here in the water? But even their skin looks different, the color of the stinging sand on the outer ring of the land, their  _hair_ isn’t dark like yours but even paler than their skin. They have… things on their bare arms, and something wrapped around their hips. Not fins, either. Something strange.

You couldn’t dream up something so ridiculous and now you can’t resist hurrying closer to see better.

As you do, the person (!) resolves into something a little clearer, like all things do when you get closer. Their eyes are bright like water-washed orange stone and the things on their arms look strange and intricate, like woven lines.

When you try to get in close enough to really get a better look, the person… makes a face, brow furrowing, mouth parting, a big bubble of air escaping. It seems to make them… startled? Upset? What does that face mean?

But they jerk their hands up, and you find something sharp pointed at your chest.

It’s about as formidable as when a crab brandishes its claws at you. Like  _really_ , fellow? What’re those for?

But there's fear, you think? Seeing that on your visitor's face is remarkable. But it also makes you get a grip on your urge to just… to do  _so many things!_  Because this person looks unsure, so you let them keep this sharp thing aimed at you and instead drift to the side, trying to get a gander at them. They really have no tail, which explains the very slow speed they take as they sort of kick and paddle away.

You follow with barely an effort. They’re leaving already? But why? And where to? Wait, where did they  _come from_?

They really aren’t very good at swimming, and your fingers twitch with the urge to dash around them and grab hold. Just for a little bit! Just to keep them here until you figure out where they surfaced from.

But you don’t do that. You are certain your visitor is scared, and restrain yourself, let them swim awkwardly to the shore.

Maybe if you don’t scare them more, they will come back! You’re already wondering how to reassure them when you poke your head out of the water to watch them leave.

And in doing so, you find  _two more people!_  Two more strange tailless people, standing tall like trees up on the grass! They look at you, more surprise and shock on their faces, and open their mouths to… make noises you don’t understand at all.

There are people here to see you. You found people.

You aren’t alone.

The stone of that heavy thought hits bottom in your chest, and it carries you back underwater until you gently bump off the loamy lakebed. As you settle there, you curl your arms around your tail and squeeze. Breathing is hard for a moment, but you can’t keep from grinning.

You aren’t alone!

 

* * *

 

For hours you lurk down by the stone path that stretches out into the lake, peering around the rocks to look up along the lakeshore to where the people are.

By now, you have snuck up while they were sleeping to get close enough to see what the strange blotch up on the grass was. And even now, you’re unsure what it is, what it could possibly be called. The peaked, taut fabric that covers them doesn’t seem very sturdy or safe, but you don’t really understand much at all lately. All of the things you knew before seem small now that these people have come.

In the light of day, you watch the vague movement from the lake. They’re up there. You can smell their fire and food. You could go up there.

Really, you  _should_  go up there! You know this. Every morning, you swim from your cave with the full intention to put your feet on the shore and walk up. You can stand tall like them, and you want a better look at them.

But slowly. So not to scare them again.

While you are thinking very hard about doing just that, about finally climbing out of the water and somehow greeting your visitors, you’re knocked loose from your wild fantasy of bravery by someone coming down the stone path. Towards you! You shove your head back under the water before they can spot you.

Which is  _not the right way to say hello_  and you know it, knocking your forehead against the stone with your teeth grit. Just do it! Just go above the water so they can see!

When you finally stop hiding, you see them walking back across the path. The one with the pink hair like a blooming flower. They seem very nice, if you’d just let them see you!

Cursing yourself for the third day in a row, you look around. On top of the path, they left something. You are confused, and haul yourself up to see what it is.

On a flat shiny white stone, there’s food. Even though you know you are sitting where they might see you, the curiosity is strong as undertow, and you remain there to pick at a bit.

It’s hot against your fingers, but it tastes interesting. Soft and flaky. You don’t know what it is, like nothing you’ve eaten here. Maybe they brought it from wherever they came from.

When you’re done, you still have the flat stone. It’s perfectly round and smooth.

You know just where you’re going to put it, and are happy your friends are so nice to leave you gifts, even if you’re too scared to go tell them so. You resolve to make it up to them later somehow.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, you do work up the courage to get close to them.

You can see two of them blurrily through the lake surface, see them sitting on the edge of the stone together, and  _this is it you are going to do this_.

You don’t give yourself the chance to back out, propelling yourself with strong strokes of your tail and launching up, hands planting on the sun-warmed surface a fair distance behind them. You plop yourself down, and try not to make it obvious you're terrified as you turn to face them.

The pink-haired one yelps, and says something sharp at you and this is already a bad idea. It’d take just a small push for you to slip back into the water where you would stay for the rest of your days.

What stops you is the way the other one is looking at you. The same one you met in the lake, with their gleaming stone eyes and the intricate markings around their arms.

You look at them, and you cannot bear to move. Even if you are nervous, they are... you don't even know. They are  _so much_ , you think it'll take you days to learn these new faces and bodies so unlike yours.

The two of them speak to and fro, and it’s… a frustration like you’ve never felt before in your life, that you can’t  _understand_  them. This is something you didn’t anticipate, any more than you anticipated meeting people at all.

The conversation going on around you is a maze of sounds you can’t navigate, so you don’t. Instead, you lean in as much as you dare and stare at the markings on the pale one’s arms. This close, you can see the markings are actually  _things_. A long, weirdly curved knife and some leaves. They move gently, so slowly you have to stare to even notice.

When you look up, they are watching you too. You feel the anxious green headrush at being caught out. Is it bad? Is it not good to stare? But it's so hard  _not_ to.

The other says something, looking right at you as they rests their hand on their chest. You think they are indicating something, but… while the strange things they put on their bodies sure are odd, you don’t think that’s the point.

You’ve really thought about it, and figure it’s some kind of clever protective layer. They don’t seem very inclined to swimming like you, and spend so much time up in the air and sunlight. If you did that, you’d dry out and it’d become too hard to breathe. So it’s likely the lack of tails isn’t the only difference between you.

The flowery person repeats the motion and the sounds, looking at you expectantly.

Oh.  _Oh._  You think you understand.

“Roxy,” comes out of your mouth like a log dropping into the water, clumsy and weird. The hiss at the end is hard to control. But, they grin anyway, happy.

“Dirk,” is easier by far, and your eyes snag on theirs and hold again.

You rest a hand on your own chest and tell them, “Jake. Yes.” Or try to. Those hissy noises are hard.

They both seem happy, and you get to examine them more. Even though you are pulled like a tide to… Dirk. Dirk, and their markings. You like them, how stark they are, and how there are softer spots scattered underneath. You wonder how they got there.

Without meaning to, you catch yourself holding that orangey gaze. Staring. You think they are still a little scared. Or, nervous? It’s still hard to tell. But you wish they weren’t.

When Dirk breaks your held gaze, you realize just how long you’ve been staring and without even thinking about it hurl yourself back into the lake.

There is a something you have never felt before. It's prickly like sharp spines, threatening to pierce and cut you open if you grip it too tight. But it's exciting. A new feeling! You twirl a few times in the water, just for the rush of it through your fins, before you swim home.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, the wall between you and them gets a crack when Jane, the leader of your new friends, learns how to speak to you.

Initially, you are so excited about this you can barely sit still. Jane, stern but kind Jane, greets you with a word that tangles and twists itself into sounds you understand. It’s not perfect and something about it catches against you like burrs, but it’s an improvement over before. All you've had so far are the piecemeal words you've learned from Roxy.

But it’s only Jane. Which doesn’t seem fair. You like Jane and are so excited! Very excited to speak to someone!

Jane says soon Roxy will be able to talk to you too. And they tell you they are part of an  _expedition_ from far away. And that your island is the most magical thing they’ve ever seen.

And the more they talk, the less Dirk does. Before, all of them would speak around you in a comfortable, strange din of alien conversation. You didn’t have to try to decipher it or follow along. Just be with them.

Jane speaks to you, eager with questions you only barely understand, and Dirk doesn’t look at you.

That thing in your chest throbs like a healing wound and you don’t like this as much as you thought you wold. It’s very confusing, these new feelings you have to untangle and make sense of. For so long, you were just sad and bored. Now, you are elated, filled with vivid yellow happiness, but also worried and anxious. All at once!

When you ask Jane when Dirk will talk, they get this pinched upset look, and their words come slowly as they try to explain. Jane tells you Dirk is different, and won’t be able to have a magic speech charm.

You don’t like this at all, and don’t understand why. The words Jane uses don’t  _mean_  anything. The space between knowledge and understanding is a treacherous thing, like ocean water.

You could gorge yourself on dinner conversation and watch Dirk’s face fall further into a stone set. It’s not  _fair_.

 

* * *

 

 

With that in mind, you decide you have to do something. Your language won’t work, but you listen to Roxy and their jubilant explanations of human words. They want to teach you and you are desperate to learn.

However, the process takes too long, or you’re just too impatient, so instead you spend an hour pawing through your collection of things, and go to find Dirk when they’re alone.

It’s not too difficult at this time of day. The others separate from Dirk regularly, off to do important  _science_  things. Dirk stays behind.

This time, they’re working diligently up at the camp. You spend a few minutes watching them, squinting to pick out the slope of their shoulders, the slight bow of their head. How they move when they’re alone.

… You feel a little bad about that. Just watching. Is watching like this mean?

You should let them know you're watching.

With a dramatic tail swing, you make a loud splash in the water, pulling their attention. It draws them closer, thankfully, and this is definitely going to be great.

Their voice is as level as the unbroken lake surface, warm and lower than the others. When they point to the glasses you’ve borrowed, it snaps you out of a pleased daze of just listening. It’s about time to give them back; they’re not nearly as good as Jane’s! You wonder why, if it’s another oddity about Dirk no one can properly explain.

As you walk up to return them, you are close enough to see Dirk’s eyes again, and this late in the day, the sun illuminates the color.

They widen as you lean in, and Dirk’s nervous. But only a little, you think. Like you are. And that's alright.

Dirk mentions a word you know. “Food.” You nearly laugh at the suggestion. No, you’re not hungry. Instead you coax them to follow you to the pier to sit. Mostly in case you need to make a fast getaway.

You might need a fast getaway.

First, you… try. Try to tell Dirk you’re sorry they can’t speak to you, but that they’re… lovely. You don’t have another word for it, and definitely not the human word for it. They make you feel happy just being there, and you’re very glad you found them in your lake.

After a while, you’re not making much sense, and… Dirk clearly doesn’t understand anyway.

So, you carefully take their hand. Their skin is so dry and strangely textured, you get distracted just touching.

Dirk’s still, and before something bubbles up and breaks this placid thing, you take the bracelet and put it on.

When they take it off again, you fear they don’t understand. The idea of a gift seemed pretty straightforward to you, a way to… say a lot of things that you cannot figure out the damn words for. But they take the bracelet off, face pulling into a frown, and speak tightly as they call it “pretty.”

And yes! That’s it. You know that one, from Roxy, and from Jane’s further explanations.

Taking it from them, you put it back on firmly, and this time stop them from taking it back off. This is important and you want them to understand, even if it feels like reaching across that big scary ocean to the Mainland they come from. “Pretty,” you agree with them, and hope it works. Dirk, your friend, the first person you ever saw, with their lovely voice and soft looks and cleverness.

They finally meet your gaze, and you grin at the extended trust. They speak, and you listen to the rise and fall of their language. But you are watching their face.

There is something familiar there.

In your cave, there is a small pool you use for its cool water on hot nights. But being separate from the lake means it’s almost completely still, and when the lilies glow brightest, its surface is a clear reflection, even clearer than the old reflective glass panes you keep in your collection.

You remember vividly, being younger and looking into the pool and seeing yourself and knowing it was you. Knowing what you looked like, being able to reach up the touch the places you saw, feeling it. Now it’s a small thing, but once the idea of  _you_  was incredible and new.

Then, you got bigger, and you understood that… to your knowledge, there was nothing else like you. Nothing else with a face like yours that you could look at and recognize. There were lots of different animals in the lake that resembled each other and communicated, but you were singular and alone.

You remember your own face when you realized that. And you see it again in Dirk’s.

Dirk is sad.

They shouldn’t be sad. For a moment, you’re confused.  _How_  could Dirk be so sad, when they have Roxy and Jane and presumably others back at the Mainland? But the reason doesn’t matter and you don’t think it’d make sense to you anyway, any more than the human’s language.

What matters, is Dirk is sad, the kind of sad you’ve been since you realized you were alone in the world. A sadness Dirk  _broke_  when they clumsily swam into your life.

You curl your tail around Dirk’s ankle, remembering all the times you wound yourself in its embrace to make yourself feel better. All you want is to do the same for them.

Dirk shouldn’t be sad. That doesn’t seem right.

Of course, before you can figure out how to explain that, Roxy startles you half out of your skin and you fall into the lake like a half-dead fish.

Ugh. Why is this so difficult? Besides the fact that all of it is brand new and you've never done any of this before and have no point of reference for it. Besides that.

You float a few feet under the water, watching them from below. But Roxy seems intent to stay and you’re too embarrassed to resurface.

Later, maybe.

 

* * *

 

Later comes sooner than you think.

Something itches at you, keeping you from returning to your cave to sleep. Even though its the dead of night and you’ve had a long tiring day in a line of long tiring days– because new experiences are wonderful! But exhausting!

Even so, you feel almost nauseous as you make distance from the humans’ camp. Something pulls at you, like a persistent ripple spreading far from a source. It strums through you and you grit your teeth, trying to ignore the nagging  _wrongness._

You can’t. You can’t you can’t you can’t, and you turn back, swimming back to the far shore. You don’t know why, since the humans will be asleep by now. Really,  _you_  should be asleep by now!

And yet, you return, certain this is a waste of time.

Instead, you surface a fair span out from the pier, and watch Dirk as they upends pots full of water over their head, swaying under the effort to haul them up and flip them. Soon, Dirk’s soaked, and rubbing their face slowly, looking dazed.

This is exactly where you are supposed to be, and worry tumbles against happiness as you slide through the water, cutting through the surface to feel the cool air against your fins. You want to make sure they’re okay, you want to  _be the one_  to make sure they’re okay. It’s that new spiky hurty feeling in you again.

You take a deep gulp of lake water to brace yourself, and… something’s there. Metallic and  _weird._

Dirk notices you about the same moment you realize what happened, that maybe you hurt them. The sharp bits you have, you're not used to keeping people safe from them. 

You’re sorry. But also, you really want them to come closer. All the time, you’re climbing out of your lake to see the humans. Now, you think the reversal might be really good.

Dirk seems drowsy, leaning heavily on their arms, eyes half-lidded. You brighten up all over, unable to control the rush of it, and delight in how your yellow catches the warm color of their irises. Pretty eyes.

You try to coax them in. Words don’t work, but Dirk listens and seems to lean closer to you.

Oh, what if Dirk enjoys your voice in the same senseless happy way you enjoy theirs? Yours isn’t rough and sun-warm like Dirk’s, but you would like to be so lucky. The hope of it keeps you babbling at them as you reach up and touch their legs, trying to encourage them.

And fine, when that doesn’t do the trick, you take hold of their hips and pull them off the stones.

You catch them, brace them between you and the pier, assured by the boneless drowsiness in their body that they probably won’t remember to float. But that’s fine, because… now they’re here. You have Dirk, your hands catching their thighs, so close their head rests against yours, and that hurt you've been carrying around in your chest dissolves from the proximity.

In its place, it just thick liquid heat, a heady thing that’s not quite happiness, but similar. Wondrous and new, pouring forth to fill you as you nudge your nose against Dirk’s. They’re here and solid in your grasp. Alone, but not like before. A new, better kind of alone.

Your heart’s beating a little fast and all you can manage are soft entreating noises. Even if you don’t know  _what_  the thing you want is. This, but more, you think?

Dirk seems to have a better idea than you do, and settles their legs around you. They’re easier to hold that way, and you keep a hand on the pier so you don’t do anything stupid to ruin this like float off or sink down. Humans can't breathe underwater. They're so fragile.

While you handle that, Dirk takes one of your glowing fins between their fingers. Pressing and rubbing, you feel it all the way down your spine, the exploratory touch. You light up under Dirk’s touch and cannot find the embarrassment this time.

You’re too busy feeling  _too much_  everywhere, until you just break, pressing your mouth against Dirk’s neck before you say anything ridiculous and holding them tighter.

Dirk pushes you back and for a moment you are worried you did bad here. You don’t know what you’re  _doing_ , this is new, everything is so new you don’t know how to handle any of it. Maybe this is bad.

Instead Dirk mumbles something and puts their mouth on yours.

You don’t know what that means, but it seems good? It seems very good, actually, and after you hum inquisitively, Dirk does it  _more_ , with their mouth open and then their  _tongue_  and this… this is a  _much_  better use of your mouths than stupid  _talking_ , wow. It’s hot and wet in a way  _entirely_  unlike swimming but you like it and bet you can do well at it anyway.

It makes Dirk move against you more, almost restless, and the pressure against your sheath is… very nice. And that big new knot of emotion winds up tighter.

Oh. You really hope this is the same for humans.

Having Dirk pressed to the pier makes it easier. You hold them in place and rock together, using your tail for more pressure, because the pressure feels so good, and Dirk is not making sad noises at all, so you chase it. It has to be good. Dirk must feel it too. Their hands on your shoulders are so tight, and you think they'll leave a mark on your skin. None as fine as the ones on their arms, but you want it anyway.

This can’t be bad. You curl your hands into their hair, long and silky and wet, tangling in your grasp. They mouth at one of your spots, and you illuminate, a hot wave rising that you dive headfirst into and hope Dirk follows along. The sounds they muffle against you are pretty telling.

Strangly, Dirk seems to shudder all over at once and… go still, moaning faintly, like they’re tired. That’s odd, and you pull yourself up out of the good warm feelings stirred up in you to look at them.

Their head is lolled against you, their eyes shut, lips parted around deep breaths. The dampness of their skin gleams with the light from your fins and spots.

They are the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. But you think they might be very tired.

Dirk will probably need help climbing out of the lake so they can go to sleep. But for now, you chirp useless things against their ear and hold them close. Just for a little while longer.

 

* * *

 

Not being able to speak to Dirk can’t stand any more. Or,  _you_  can’t stand it. You won’t, in fact.

So. It’s a terrible trespass and you wince with every step you take into Jane’s tent. Sure, you don’t understand the  _why_  of the tents and how everyone sleeps apart, but it’s obviously an important human thing.

Well. You’re not human, and this is important too!

You make it fast, grabbing the little metal ornament from Jane’s tent and hightailing it out of there as quick as you can. You don't do anything with the small shiny thing until you get safely back to your cave.

Then.

_Then._

Then then then there is so much you curl yourself up in your swing and hold your head as you try to sort out what it all means. The words are all there suddenly, heaps and heaps of fucking words, a veritable cavalcade of words, an avalanche cascading down the slopes, and you’ve never seen snow, let alone an avalanche, never been that far north or south, nor east or west or south by southeast, but the sun rises one way and sets the other, hours days weeks years, you've been alone for  _years_ , the lonely king of your island, and and and  _nobility still makes no fucking sense_ , but the very term makes your skin prickle, so much anger and fear and shame with a word that Dirk calls himself–  _himself_ , Dirk is  _he_ , he’s a man, which is different from a woman like Jane and Roxy, who are  _she_ , but they doesn’t make sense either, but it’s probably important. They are humans and humans have a lot of dizzying bright rules and mores and laws hitched to their wagons, unlike merfolk or faeries or demons or presidents or ministers, there is a whole barrel of words you have dunked your face into like a freshman being put through their paces, and  _you have all these words and phrases and none of them mean anything._

This was a terrible idea. You pull at your hair and whine to yourself, swinging your weight until the hammock rocks you, hugging your tail so tight the tip goes numb.

It’s so much.

But it… settles. Settles, until you have human words– no,  _English_  words, fizzing up through your grey matter like a shaken tonic. Jesus fucking criminy, this is  _one language_ , they have  _more,_  how the fuck is that possible, who can keep it all straight and ready?

But.

But when you finally catch your breath and tip yourself out of the hammock like spilled molasses– what the sweet hell are  _molasses_ – you sit there on your hands and knees, gulping air.

And you can understand them all now.

You can understand Dirk now.

You grin so hard, your face hurts, flushing gold light.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORELAY COURTIN' TIME
> 
> fuckin' woo this noble babe, jake

Spending time with Dirk is...

It's overwhelming at first, if you're going to be completely honest. Now you know everything all three of them are saying, and it's different from when the lovely clever witchy ladies use their charms to speak to you. With the charms, their words are stilted but slow, coming to you through a filter, their speech almost simple.

Now, you... are thrown in with them in _their_ native language and a following along taxes your brain something fierce. So, you keep quiet for now, and let it all wash over you, trying to sort it out at your own speed.

And watching Dirk as he picks through his breakfast and keeps shooting you queer little looks with the slightest flush to his face.

It takes some Herculean force of will not to wink at him. That slightly nervous look is back on his face, and you don't want to spook him. Not today.

Today, you wait patiently for Jane and Roxy to head off to their own magiscientific labors, and you are alone with Dirk.

The urge to burst out a greeting, to really knock his socks off, is strong, but you tamp it down. If you botch the whole thing up, you're going to look a damned fool, and that's not for today. Today, you are going to... to _woo_ him. Court him! As much as they turn your head to mush, it's nice to have words for the things you're feeling.

Like: _romance._  Yeah. That's a stellar one.

Now that you can make sense of the soft-spoken words that spill from his mouth, following Dirk around is even more of a treat, even if it seems to confuse him. To your deep amusement, he even comments on as much, with a wonderfully sulky, “I’m not doing anything interesting. Don’t much see what you’re getting out of ogling me all day.”

The urge to tell him to glance in a mirror is strong, but you just grin at him and decide to show him where the best food on the island is. The humans with their little cold stone chest of rationed food is interesting and has expanded your palette a bit, but even so can't hold a candle in a hurricane to what you have to share.

For a good portion of the afternoon, you fear you won't be able to crack through that hard anxious shell he's hermitted himself into. It's obviously the coziest of conical homes for him.

But with each offered morsel of fresh fruit, he's drawn out further. The slight gleam of his teeth through his lips as he sneaks a smile is... so much you can barely handle it. Even the way his lips purse together when he catches himself and tries to stop is so charming you'd think it was a hex if that were possible for him.

He's a handsome, pretty thing under the shifting shade of the trees.

When you find the really tasty pod tree, there's nothing recently fallen for you to open up. Nor are any of them exactly in your reach, considerable though it is. So the obvious solution is to lift Dirk up into the air so he can grab one.

If you cannot show off how tall and grand you can be, you can show off how strong you are.

He's warm and heavy like this, out of the water, but easy to carry. You think he  _is_ impressed; a flush sweeps up his neck and fans over his cheeks, and makes lifting him worthwhile. You'd carry him around all day if he'd allow it. Which he won't, so you put him down and watch him eat.

He calls it chocolate. You know that word. That's a good word, you think.

"If I were a young debutante, I'd be seriously wooed right now."

You beam at him. That _was_  the idea. You're glad he's open to the idea. You are trying very hard without a lot of tracks to guide the trolley. (And just the thought makes you blink, until the meanings fill into place.) But now that he's here with his friends, it seems important not just to show how glad you are they arrived, but... that you can _help_. You've lived here for... longer than you can fully understand, really, and you can help.

Carrying all the food back, Dirk walks with his head slightly ducked, still a little pink all over. You hope it's sentiment, not sunburn. They really are odd, humans. So eager to be out in the elements without a lick of protection from it.

You can help with that too, you think, but not yet. Spacing it all out will be better. And you don't want to crowd him. Just... be nearby for today.

 

* * *

 

  
You spend the entire day together. Slowly, by stolen degrees, like water erosion, the tension in Dirk's spine starts to unravel. He no longer watches you like he's expecting something bad. You both pick through the ruins-- you've cleaned them out completely, there's nothing left, but he doesn't know that-- and when Dirk stop jumping at every sound you make, your heart swells a little bit.

Something makes him sad, but you don't think it lives here. Whatever that is, it lives far on the other side of the great cruel ocean, and you'd be very surprised if it could find you here. Especially now that you have some vague borrowed idea about the scope of the world. This place is small, and extremely remote. You have brand new reasons to be glad your friends found this place. It's done such a good job keeping you safe. There's no reason it won't do the same for them.

This new knowledge aches in you as you watch Dirk examining the remains of old houses. Long ago, before you can even recall, the island had people. Now, you hope its as punch-pleased as you are to have them again.

"You had to come so far to get away from that sadness," you tell him in your own words.

He looks at you, interested but without comprehension. That's alright. You still smile for him until he flushes and turns away.

As the sun sets, he makes supper (which is also dinner? the magic doesn't supply you with an answer there) and lets you eat early, even before Jane and Roxy return home. Their tardiness grates at Dirk, and it's good. Getting upset over small inconsequential things is better than the other bigger, meaner things. It's all fixed when Roxy and Jane arrive, and Dirk's annoyance melts into something without bite.

You keep your mouth full of stew lest you open it and say something stupid and big-hearted.

Jane returns coated in pollen or pixie dust or something-- Roxy speaks so fast, it's hard to follow still. But everyone settles in with good humor for the brothy soup, and it's a nice end to a long, lovely day.

"Did you keep our friend company through the day," Roxy says with the strange stacatto pattern of Allspeak.

"Yes. We collected much fruit and carried it home," you respond, keeping your own words simple and spaced out, watching how Roxy's brow furrows as she nods.

"We will have to be careful of native fruit," Jane says, one hand touching her earring. "Our bodies are very different. What is good for you may be poison for us."

"Dirk already tried the food," you point out, amused that Dirk already thought of this earlier and positioned himself as a sort of test for everyone else. "If he still feels fine tomorrow, you can eat it."

"Very good, I would kill for something fresh to eat," Roxy says, grinning. She's always very dramatic, you've found.

As you keep talking with the girls, you notice Dirk stand and quietly leave. It wouldn't be the first time, but now that you've spent most of the day with him and seen him without that low slope of his shoulders, its return stings.

You... don't know how exactly to fix this. His sadness was gone for much of the day. It seems irritatingly tenacious.

But, you think boldy, you can be too.

 

* * *

 

You excuse yourself from the camp and go to find him, unwilling to stand for this sort of thing he does. The last thing you want is to make him feel alone, but you can't just up and start _talking_  to everyone in their own confusing mess of a language so soon. You'd make a mess of it, you know it.

Instead, you want to... do something with him. To share again and remind him of that thing you share. That it's built on a familiar sadness is something of a downer, but you believe in this. In yourself, even! You can help him, just like he helped you.

You're gratified to find him by the fruit trees again, eating near the shoreline. You follow him for a while, thinking of what to do. Maybe more of the sex, that could work. But... given the deep frown on his face, that you don't even think he knows is marring his pretty face, maybe not.

Something else comes to mind, and it's almost too much to think of. But you can't very well go off and _tell_  Dirk about this very important connecting cord between you. However, you could... show him.

Decided, you surface and try to call him over. He's more recalcitrant that you really want to deal with, and you bite your tongue to avoid blurting out something terrible like _just hop in already will you?_ Instead, you spit out an annoyed spray of bubbles before beckoning him with a simple plea.

Luckily, he trusts you. You pull him further from the shore and all he does is call you bossy. Biting down a grin, you marvel at him. How he puffs up like a cat (a what? some Mainland animal) but always goes along when nudged. It's a strange thing, his false bravado and how he insists on being led. You like that a lot.

It's something to think about later. For now, you urge him onto your back, and dive.

Swimming as fast as you dare, aware that humans can't breathe underwater like you can, not naturally anyway, you take him to the far side of the lake.

It's weirdly tempting to forgo the point of this little outing, to bring him to your cave maybe, to show him where _you_  rest at night. Compelling, but not tonight. Besides, you think you left it a mess, and you're trying to impress him, not show off what a slob you can be.

No, instead, you dive deeper, trying to keep half a mind on Dirk. But he doesn't tap you yet, doesn't indicate any distress. Which... you almost wish he would, when you're already there, swimming smoothly through the tunnel to your collection.

Already, you sort of regret this. Being here makes you feel weird. All the old things, the books and carved things, the lost pieces of people's lives. Remnants.

Even as you lower him from your back and let him stand, you don't want to be here. The idea was fine enough, but...

So rather than showing him anything or helping him see, you just... curl up on the edge of the water, putting your back to it all. Which wasn't your intention at all.

Knowing that doesn't stop you, and you have to sit there like a coward and listen as Dirk sets off some sort of light and pads around on damp bare feet.

It's agony. Absolute agony to listen to him, even the smallest disturbance echoing around the cave. You squeeze your eyes shut, and struggle with a brand new fear.

What if he _doesn't_ understand? What if you were wrong and this isn't something he knows?

You wait, because you can't make yourself so much as turn and definitely not speak to him. You wait with the quet dripping of water. You're sickly green from toes to tips, and no matter how you try you can't force any other hue. You just hope he doesn't... but he won't understand, so it's fine. That should make you feel better, not nervous and sick. But why would you want him to know you feel like this.

You don't even want him to see you like this, whether he understands or not. Cripes, why didn't you just bring him somewhere nice?

The water shifts as he sits next to you, his own feet with yours. You freeze all over just to avoid shying away.

His leg presses against yours. You stare at your feet, together in the water. He's so pale. Almost delicate. He'd hate you saying that, you bet, and wince at your own errant mental rambling.

You glance at him, then away before you can even read his face.

Then: "You're alone, aren't you."

Suddenly, you can't breath properly. It's funny and weird out of your mouth, and you bend further forward, trying and failing to smother the sob in your throat.

You are, you're alone. But now he's here. Dirk, and his lovely friends. Roxy with her rapid tumbling words and Jane with her intrepid inquisitive spirit. They're here, and Dirk puts his arms around you, pulls you in against him. It helps, but also makes you cry harder.

You've cried so many times before, but never with someone to hold you. Through the sorrow, you're so relieved, you flex and fumble your tail across the cave floor until it curls around Dirk's hip.

And because he's just lovely, so lovely, he lifts it, and puts it in his lap, stroking it soothingly. It feels so nice. Much better than when you do it.

You lean in and curl around him, and cry for all the days you didn't have him.

 

* * *

 

Your life could probably be divided into three parts, each so completely different from each other you barely recognize the times before. First, when you were small and the way you didn't understand anything and things like glowing flowers and a tree branch springboard would keep you occupied for days.

Then, you grew bigger, and understood more. Mainly that once people had been here, and now they weren't. All your guileless joy drained away, until you fought to fill the days with something other than the emptiness.

Now. Now, you wake up and hurry to the humans' camp for breakfast with your friends. Jane has a plate ready for you, topped up with warm citrusy goodness, and Roxy nudges you with an elbow, greeting you cheerfully.

Your lovely people eat and talk with ease, to you and around you. It fizzles like yellow sunlight in your chest, casting color up your spots as you listen to Dirk speak in his drawl, kindness hidden in the corners of his words.

Learning their language was the best idea. Overwhelming and confusing at first, but worth it to feel the sounds they make coat you like summer rain. You're a part of this. You'd never imagined just how nice it would be.

For the first time since you were small, you run around, and chase Roxy down to the lake to get a load of this _cannonball_  move. The way she shrieks as she hurls herself into the water stings your ears, but is still wonderful and bright.

Even better is tossing her in again, letting her brace on your legs and leap backward. She lands badly, enough you wince with sympathy, but she's fine. And if she wasn't, you'd be right in after her to help.

It's purpose. You never had that before. It's exciting! Now, you have to help them, and show them how important you are.

It's a golden feeling.

While you stand there, being very vigilant and impressive, Dirk joins you, smirking softly as he watches Roxy. His long sleeves are down despite the heat, covering up all the strange delightful sigils and images on his arms.

Can't have that. So, into the lake he goes. As he climbs out, he's indignant, but still removes his wet shirt. Excellent.

They still don't know you understand them, and you're enjoying the shade that provides you. Having them all bobbing around in your lake is a treat. You can feel the shift of the water as Roxy and Jane keep themselves afloat. It's so silly, how they drift with so little control, their legs working so hard where a tail would save so much trouble. When Roxy comes swimming with you, you make a game of it, a play for one, as you try your best to swim as treacle-slow as her. It's difficult and useless to try.

It's hard to even sit still. All you want it to show them how suited to the island you are, so they'll notice and feel more safe. At home here with you.

The thought has you giddy, and when you can't bare it, you climb up to sit next to Dirk.

He's perched on the edge of the pier, all by himself. Joining him, you look over his lazy posture, the way his elbows poke out like old tree knots. There is a growing redness to his skin, and you haven't been teasing him nearly enough for it to be embarrassment. He's going to burn.

You just have to do _everything_ , don't you? Even so, it's not a hardship to scoot closer to him and start stroking his fine, dry skin with your hands.

This close, with your hands on him, your palms pressing firmly against the muscles of his arms, you can feel the blood in him. It's difficult, not like water; you can feel the resonance of water all around you, even in the air after it rains. And what's in humans isn't like that exactly, but when you focus on Dirk-- and you are focusing on him quite hard-- you can feel the way it rushes, his heart beating faster as you touch him.

You smile and keep working at his skin, enjoying the way it starts to gleam under your touch. Much more natural, to you. And the way his skin _really_  darkens, flushing all over is sweet.

Around you, Dirk asks what you're doing. But since he's not asking _you_ , you don't bother paying attention to the humans talking about it. Even when Roxy... says something that pangs.

Anyway. You intertwine your fingers in Dirk's, and feel his twitch tighter in response before he looks away and makes his hand fall lax.

Humans are shy, you've discovered. There are stories in your head, tales of detectives and mysteries. One of the few things you've gleaned is how nervous humans are about everything.

But this close, with both your hands stroking the wide plain of Dirk's back, you can feel the secret things inside. Just a little. How his heart quickens, but his chest fills with every breath, slow and deep.

Over his shoulder, Roxy gives you an approving thumbs up. Jane grabs her wrist and knocks it into the water, and so sets off a short splash war.

You are bound and determined to see that Dirk is safe from the sun as it continues to rise in the sky. Kneading along the bony line of his spine, you find more little spots. _Freckles_ , your new vocabulary supplies. What a brilliant word for them. Freckles. You press your fingertips into as many as you can reach, and try to count them.

Around thirty-six counted, Jane clears her throat and asks you, "Jake, could you explain what you're doing?"

You don't even bother to look up. Now you have to recount them. Shucks fucking darn. "I'm trying to keep Dirk from burning up in the sun. If he's going to insist on sitting out like this and never worry about drying up, I'll do it for him."

Jane titters a bit, and she and Dirk talk for a while, voices wry with good humor. You have ceased paying attention. What started as a divergence has become _very important._  You're so distracted that when Jane prods your tail, you startle, and chirp admonishingly at her. Honestly.

But that gives you a fine idea, and you go through the effort of hauling your tail up to spread it over Dirk's lap. Here, it's safely out of Jane's reach, and you remember... before, in your cave, the way Dirk pet your tail as you blubbered all over him. It was so nice, you could've fallen asleep like that if you weren't busy crying.

Dirk's kind. You don't think he knows it, though. It's very odd.

As you finish up, leaving a nice healthy translucent sheen all over his skin, Dirk gives you a somewhat incredulous look. And oh, you forgot the most important, vulnerable bits! Taking hold of his chin, you rub your thumb over his face. It's funny, sharp along his cheekbones and jaw, but lovely soft cheeks and that lush bit under his eyes.

Pretty, pretty, pretty. You know more words now, and maybe better words. But you still think he's pretty.

"Happy now?" Dirk asks, flushed and protected, all thanks to you.

You grin at him. "Happy now."

 

* * *

 

Eventually your friends leave to go do something up in the jungle. You are more than happy to leave them to it, honestly; you rarely venture into the dense trees, as letting your tail drag along the underbrush and rocks and withering old logs leaves you with more scrapes and bruises than you care to deal with.

And besides, after spending most of the morning and early afternoon with them, you could use some time to yourself. Which seems weird; surely after most of your life in unknowing solitary you would glut yourself on the novelty of company.

But swimming aimlessly around the lake for a while comes as a relief. You don't have to think, don't have to sort through the new information flooding your dome, just let it come as it will.

There are words you like. Persnickety. Whimsical. Irrascible. Effervescence. Romance.

You have to sort out a solution to the whole language business. Perhaps a good charade (another good fun word) would work. You have already discovered your own propensity for learning things, and Jane has said some confusing and flattering things about how magical you apparently are.

Then, all you have to do is get your mitts on some of the textual commodities around the camp and slowly  _improve_ your English! Not all at once, but slowly over time. Perhaps you can even cozy up to your friends and let them guide you through the tougher linguistic entanglements.

Dirk's rarely busy but enjoys having tasks. Yes, this already seems _excellent_ and you are very clever. It's a shame no one will know your plan and be able to appreciate how clever you are, really.

 

* * *

 

 

After a few hours on your own, coming up little ideas on how to make this minty fresh plot unfold exactly as you need it to, the jittery feeling returns. The urge to go somewhere, and this time you don't hesitate. Maybe this pull is new to you, but what isn't lately? And what is on the other side of it is always good.

This time, you're not lead by the heartstrings to the pier or the camp. You instead meet the north wall of the lake, where the waterfalls trickle down through the rock to join the basin. _Here_.

It takes a little effort, but you haul yourself up by your arms and swing your tail upward to get free of the lake. It's an inglorious affair, but luckily the constant din of the waterfalls covers the graceless _slap_  of your body hitting the stone.

And Dirk's back is turned, thank the stars.

Strange turn of phrase. As if the stars have anything to do with it. But you know the humans like thanking things for good fortune. Stars, saints, gods, fuck, et cetera.

You could understand the idea now. You feel very grateful as you finally take a look at Dirk and see what he's doing. Namely, standing under one of the smaller, diverted streams of falling water with all his clothes off. You've seen him shirtless plenty of times without his shirt and shoes, but he's been devoted to those pants. They've been covering up some long, lean legs, and meet his hips with some intriguing fleshy softness, given his lack of tail.

You find a seat on one of the rocks and do some ardent gazing at your special human as he drags his fingers through his damp hair, leans into the water with his eyes shut. It's a very good look for him.

Your vigilant human watching is punctuated when Dirk finally finishes up and starts to dry off. Once again, he wraps some cloth around himself, but its only secured with a loose knot. Good to know.

He spots you belatedly, and you can hear his shocked inhale over the noise around you. Hm, perhaps you aren't supposed to stare? But it's hard not to! Why would humans have rules that go against your very natural urges?

Springing down from your seat, you stroll over to Dirk with a smile. He still shies back a little, but not far. "What, miss me?" he says, looking up at you, then away, then back again.

It would be _very_  fun to swoop in and tell him _Alwyas_  with a big kiss on the mouth-- that's another great one, _kiss_.

But the last thing you want to do is buck your great plan before it can come to fruition.

Fruition. Like fruit. Like tangerines, like Dirk's eyes as they follow you. You wind around him with long steps, letting your tail drag along behind. It closes like a loop with him in the center, and you're not sure why, but you  _enjoy_ this. Seeing him standing there without so much as a whinge, closed in and kept.

He's still wearing your bracelet. That's a very good sign, you think, before you take his face between your hands and kiss him.

"Holy shit," Dirk exhales against your mouth, sounded awed and breathless. That sounds like a good sign, and you proceed to dip back in. You _love_  kissing, it's the best, and you want to excel at it.

Dirk clings to you, his fingers clearly searching for something to grip, but only finding your skin. It's a predicament you want him to share, and coax him backward until he's tucked between a rockface and _you_. Now that you have more of an idea what you're doing, this is... much better. Now that you are paying more attention to him, watching how he moves and reacts, it's much better than the fumbling thing you had before. And now, he's wide awake and his heart is pounding.

There's a tiny little noise caught in his throat as you tug the towel off him. You're certain he didn't even mean to let it out, but you adore it.

But before you can wring more wonderful noises from him, you are faced with... the rest of the package.

You know in a peripheral sense that humans are different from you, whatever the term for _you_  is. Nereid or lorelay or "mudskipper boy," per Roxy.

Being faced with that is a good deal more real.

Dirk lets out a huffed breath and tries to cover up. You take hold of his wrists instead and urge them back against the wall. Immediately, he lets out another abortive moan, fingers twitching and flushing fetchingly all across his chest.

Which you like! But you have to take a gander at him first to figure out... what you're meant to do here.

Dirk tells you to be gentle, and the words pop your carefully maintained courage for a moment. You really _don't_  know what you're doing here, faced with a whole new being that has whole new _stuff_  you have to explore.

You need to be gentle. The thought circles through your mind with increasing urgency. Especially when Dirk squeezes your shoulders. Land's sakes, you want this to be okay. It's absurd, that you can shake through the mess of new ideas and words in your head to uncover  _dick_  and _penis_  and such, but not what the devil to do with it.

Except the faint instruction to be gentle.

So you take hold of it, the soft appendage that is just starting to rise from between his legs and the soft, heavy weights underneath, fingers curling around them to cradle the weight. He's just barely damp from the waterfall, but his cock and sac are mostly dry like the rest of his strange, fragile skin. If anything, they're more fragile, given how he hitches as you touch more firmly.

You're still just trying to learn the shape but Dirk seems tightly wound, and you can _feel_  his pulse quicken. You like that a lot, the way the soft skin of his cock lets you feel him so much more keenly. Especially as he starts to rock into your grip.

Trying a few things, mixing up the pressure and motion of your hands to move counter to him, you can feel as he gets desperate. Finally, with a few gasped words, he starts to leak over you, and you grin. That's absolutely a good sign.

But when you try to encourage him more, he takes hold of your hands, his face cardinal red and hot against your chest as he hides there. "Can't... can't give you more right now, man. Doesn't work like that."

... Oh. Well, okay. You obligingly let go of him, and support him as he sways into you further. That sleepy bonelessness is back. Is that normal for humans? It's quite a bit more exciting, the sharp pinnacle, but much briefer than you were expecting.

It occurs to you that you might now have to take Dirk back to camp. If the drowsiness is going to set in, you have to make sure he returns alright. As soon as you realize this, you feel worried; perhaps Dirk will let you carry him back? That would keep him safe, your poor strange human. Given the way humans live communally, they must know about this trouble and look after each other.

To your surprise, Dirk seems to shake off the drowsiness with a determined gleam in his eyes, and starts to crowd  _you_ back! Of all things!

You are imminently curious what this means, ready and eager to learn more. Dirk says something that sounds clever and feisty, but the meaning doesn't quite connect in time before he kneels between your legs.

And oh wow.

Humans do _many wondrous things with their mouths._

He coaxes you out of your sheath and puts you in his mouth, and it's... you've touched yourself in plenty of ways before, but nothing comes close to the wet hot paradise that is Dirk dragging his tongue against you and sucking down all of the... fucking fuck, it's hard to even pluck up a word for it, all the ejaculate he's happily swallowing. No, that one isn't nice. Come. Eh, better.

You let him do his good diligent work for a while, talented and practiced like some sort of esteemed professional. There's no complaint in him to keep on, and you realize a little after the fact that he might be expecting you to... finish up? Like he does?

It's only then you nudge him off. And holy ghost, the state of him, dripping glowing liquid from his lips and chin.

Already you hope he'll want to do this again. Thankfully, he seems amused by the mess you've left him in, and cleans up without complaint.

He smiles after, and the skin around his eyes crinkles up. It's wonderful. _He's_ wonderful.

By now, he might be missed at the camp but you... cannot bear the idea of letting him go so soon. Suddenly you regret the entire plan you have in place, because you want to tell him somehow! Let him know this is so stupendous and quite literally beyond all the things you dreamt up when you were alone, how he's taken the old life and smashed it to beautiful pieces, and you're so damn  _happy._

But you don't tell him any of that. You just call him to you with sounds he doesn't understand and pull him down against you. Later, you will be a responsible good person and guide him back to his home on the shore so he can sleep, but not yet. Not yet, not yet, not while you you are aching to hold him against you and feel his solid weight settle in and his hair tickling your chin.

He laughs. It's beautiful and throaty. “This is un-fucking-believable. Got some amphibious freshwater merman with a glowy dick and an insurmountable language barrier, but at least you want to cuddle after I suck you off. That’s better fare than my last few boyfriends.”

You swallow against the sudden lump in your throat and clutch him tighter, revelling in how he rubs his nose sleepily against you. You are felled like a tree, and wonder what the sweet hell is wrong with the Mainland.

Tonight, that doesn't matter. It's so far away, it's barely real. Here, surrounded by the familiar embrace of your island, the sound of waterfalls and the smooth stone and the cooling night air, you watch Dirk doze off, his breathing steady and evening, tucked cozily into your arms.

You spent days wondering where your friends came from. Finally you realize it doesn't matter, now that they are here with you.


End file.
